


Light It Up for You

by tenscupcake



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenscupcake/pseuds/tenscupcake
Summary: The Doctor takes Rose to a snowy village near Christmastime, and has a few romantic surprises in store for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmeliaPonders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaPonders/gifts).



> My contribution to the dwsecretsanta 2016! 
> 
> My recipient said: "My first ship is Ten/Rose and Tentoo/Rose. Really either of these apply to the following: established relationship and they have a telepathic bond. In fact, a Christmas bonding!fic is probably what I'd like most, especially an NSFW smutty one ;)" 
> 
> I tried to incorporate all those elements in, but also kind of made it my own with a unique premise and some fun lil twists. I hope it's close to what you had in mind! I had the time of my life writing it. I legitimately did. Hence, why it turned out a little long (does it surprise anyone? lol). Hope you enjoy it, secret santa buddy, as well as everyone else :]

Steam billows wildly from Rose’s bowl of hot supper as she takes a seat on the log next to the Doctor. They’re on the edge of this little village tucked between the mountains, and Rose quickly decides it’s the best place yet to admire the scenery. Beyond the roaring fire they’re assembled around, between the behemoths of rock and snow to either side, miles upon miles of snow and pine forest stretches out into the distance. The evergreen trees extend up the nearby slopes, and various stragglers speckle the small village. Though they’ve been on this planet since early this morning, Rose simply can’t get enough of the alpine setting.

It reminds her of Earth, if not of London. The snow is just as white, the sun just as bright yellow between the scattered clouds, the sky just as blue. If the Doctor hadn’t informed her otherwise, she would’ve been convinced she was on Earth in the past, a hunter-gatherer community in some remote mountain range. Now that she knows it’s not Earth, though, she notices that the horizon where the snow and trees meet the sky is surprisingly close. The curvature of the planet is much more exaggerated. Earlier, the Doctor had mentioned it’s about one twentieth the size of Earth, but that it’s made of much heavier material, so it has a comparable gravitational pull.

What makes this community unique though, is something she’s never seen before in her life (except in outlandish wintry cartoons): each and every home and shop is made entirely out of compacted snow. It’s literally a village of igloos.

The Doctor has, of course, been here before. He once saved the village from a pack of ravenous polar bears (or their equivalent on this planet). The bears’ usual home was destroyed by an avalanche, and without their usual food source of the native deer and rodents, they turned to the nearest source of fresh meat, and that happened to be the humanoid village in the nearest valley (evidently, polar bears do not climb mountains). The Doctor led the bears to a new home with a few bits of technology, and all was well.

Indebted to the Doctor for his service, the locals have provided both entertainment and food free of charge during their stay.

They spent the day enjoying the offerings of the little village – deceptively advanced for its humble appearance. They crawled into igloo shops admiring all the clothes and utilities for sale within. Though Rose was tempted by many hats and trinkets, the only thing they purchased (or rather, bartered for a metal spoon the Doctor had in his coat pocket), was a wooden sled for two. They’d dragged it up the steep slope by a rope for half an hour, and only earned about forty-five seconds of sledding for the labor, but it was still the most exhilarating forty-five seconds either of them had had for some time.

Sometime in the afternoon, they stumbled upon a small, frozen pond between a thick of trees just outside the village. Much to their surprise, it was occupied by a group of younger locals gliding around on the ice. Though their skates had blades made of whittled rock strapped to their boots, the Doctor and Rose were thrilled to learn that partaking in this traditional seasonal activity wouldn’t be glaringly anachronous. They fetched some of their own, more modern skates from the TARDIS and joined the teens for a few spins around the ice.

Before they knew it, the sun was low in the sky, signaling it was already near the end of their day in this winter wonderland.

The location is exactly what Rose had in mind when she requested someplace cold they could celebrate Christmas. Mad as it seems, it’s already late December in her original timeline (she carefully keeps track with a special digital calendar the Doctor gave her). As it’s her first Christmas without her family, she wanted someplace magical to help get in the spirit, since the Doctor typically isn’t all that festive. (You’d never guess that, though – he’s been in as joyful mood as ever on this little miniature holiday they’ve shared together.)

Dinner is tastier than Rose expected it would be, given their less-than-appetizing lunch of smelly fish and hunks of stale bread. Its composition is fairly typical of meals back home – meat, potatoes, and vegetables. The Doctor explains it’s a type of snow-dwelling rodent, and the vegetables aren’t exactly fresh, but have been well preserved by freezing. In the summer, this wintry village is apparently transformed into a warm, farming landscape with huts made of hides.

As they eat their meal, chatting with some of the friends they’ve made throughout the day, the sun sets in vivid colors that again remind her of Earth. The sky melts from blue to orange to pink and purple and red as they dine around the fire. When there are only scraps left on their plates, Rose thinks the Doctor is about to ask if she wants to head back to the TARDIS. But he surprises her with a different question.

“How’d you like to stay the night?” he asks.

“Can we?” Rose grins in disbelief. She doesn’t want their holiday to be over just yet.

“I made some arrangements,” he explains. “One of these igloos has our name on it, if you want it.”

“Yes, yes!” She leaps up from her wooden seat and jumps up and down, clapping her thick mittens together. A gust of frigid air wafts across her cheek, though, and she falters in her excitement. “Oh. Won’t we get cold, though?”

“Well,” he tilts his head to the side, pushing out his bottom lip. “Maybe a little. But igloos have surprisingly efficient insulating capabilities. Ice has fairly poor thermal conductivity, for one thing. The design blocks wind chill, and body heat warms the air which then is trapped inside. Temperatures inside rarely get below freezing, even if the external temperature is well below that. And of course, lighting fires inside can provide extra heat.”

She didn’t need the detailed description of igloos, but she giggles because it’s so like him to provide it anyway.

“It’s still cold,” he qualifies. “But I think we’re both properly dressed for it.”

It’s true. She’s wearing snow boots, thermals beneath her waterproof trousers, and two jumpers beneath her puffy hooded snow coat. The Doctor, slightly more resilient to frigid temperatures, is wearing his usual layered pinstriped suit and long brown coat, but it’s supplemented with a blue scarf, a pair of brown gloves (which offered dexterity he insisted mittens just couldn’t provide), and a pair of strapless earmuffs, because he just couldn’t bear the thought of ruining his hair with a hat. _(“How are you gonna be able to hear in those?”_ she’d asked, exasperated with his obsession with his hair. _“Valecidian technology, Rose!”_ he’d explained as he piloted the ship. _“Keeps ears warm without blocking sound!”_ )

It’s been well below freezing all day, but Rose has been surprisingly comfortable. She’s far from warm, mind you: her toes have been close to numb most of the day, her cheeks are chapped from the cold wind, and she could still really use a soak in a hot tub right about now. But it’s nothing unmanageable. Since she specifically asked for someplace cold, she was well prepared for this before stepping out of the TARDIS. With these clothes, it’s no worse than how she might feel on a typical winter day back home. And with the charming setting, and the Doctor so invested in enjoying it with her, the temperature has hardly even been on her mind.

Sleeping in the snow may not seem appealing to an average Londoner, but Rose is no average Londoner. A night in an igloo is an opportunity they’re unlikely to come across again; and if she’s honest, it sounds brilliant.

And besides, there are probably certain things they can do to keep warm (she blushes a little just thinking about it).

“It sounds lovely.” She can’t stop smiling. This might turn out to be the best Christmas she’s ever had. Worlds better, at least, than last year, when she worked through the entire holiday season at Torchwood. And even in the rare moments she found herself in a quiet moment surrounded by decorations or a Christmas melody, memories of past Christmases with the Doctor usually just brought her to tears.

“Want to go see it?” He tries but fails to conceal a smug grin.

“Oh, yes, please,” she beams back at him. They haven’t been inside a home yet, but they’ve been inside most of the shops, and the interiors were all like nothing she’d ever seen. Bright white, illuminated and warmed by plentiful candles. There’s even been frozen furniture in some, piled with assorted furs. She can’t wait to see their own little frosty abode.

They bid farewell to their new friends, and the Doctor takes her mittened hand and leads her deeper into the cluster of igloos.

The sun has finished its descent behind the mountains, and darkness now swathes the village. It is, if it’s possible, even more miraculously beautiful at night than during the day. Several fire pits are spread throughout the community, serving a dual purpose of cooking food and providing warmth. The wobbly organic light from these scattered fires gives the entire village a cozy glow. The snow that makes up the ground and igloos, dazzling white during the daytime, has been transformed to bright orange by the fires, dusk blue where night lingers, and every shade in between. Bright stars in impossible constellations pack the clear night sky above. To the north, just above the mountain peaks, ribbons of blue and brown stardust swirl through the indigo canvas, hints of far-off galaxies that she can’t help but imagine the Doctor placed there himself.

The light wind is even more frigid now that the warmth of the sun is gone, but the fires crackling nearby ensure there’s a warm, smoky gust for every crisp, arctic one. The scents of fresh pine needles and burning wood fills her nose with each breath, and she thinks no matter how cold it gets, there couldn’t be a more perfect setting for their third Christmas together.

Soft yellow light radiates from the sunken entrances of each of the igloos they pass, and Rose eagerly awaits when they will arrive at the one reserved for them. They aren’t exactly made in the image she’d come to associate with igloos in her imagination: not composed of neatly stacked bricks of snow in a perfect half-sphere. Instead, they’re somewhat crudely shaped hills of uniform snow. Each has wisps of smoke and steam rising from the little vent near the top. And she notices that some of them have little hobbit doors placed over the entrance, a halo of light around the edges.

Seeing these small modifications, an idea strikes her.

“Ooooh, can we decorate the inside!?” she exclaims, looking up at the Doctor with an excited gleam in her eyes.

“Well,” the Doctor muses, screwing up his face. “I dunno. That might be a little rude, hmm? Seeing as it’s not ours.”

Crestfallen, Rose drops her eyes down to the snow.

“I s’pose so.”

She decides not to dwell on the small disappointment, and returns her gaze to the row of homes. They’re nearing the edge of the entire village now; she hopes the Doctor hasn’t lost his way through the snowy walkways.

But something catches her eye. A glint of blue, a flash of green. Flickers of orange, yellow, and red. She does a double take to check the rest of the igloos: they’re all still emitting the same consistent, golden firelight from the entrances. But this one near the end, though it appears the same shape and size as the others, emits a halo of numerous colors of from its entrance, illuminating the snow around it in a twinkling rainbow.

Eyes wide and mouth gapig open, she glances up at the Doctor once more.

Hands in his pockets, he’s staring out at the shadowy forest, seemingly oblivious.

“’S that one ours?” she squeaks excitedly, tapping him on the arm.

“Which one?” he looks around lazily, continuing to play the oblivious card.

“Doctor!” she demands, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

He finally meets her eyes, and gives her a charming smile that could melt every igloo in sight. “It’s ours.”

She bolts for the colorful entrance, not caring if she leaves the Doctor in the powder she kicks up.

She slides into the colorful entrance tunnel on her bum, and quickly crawls up into the main living space. When she reaches the top and straightens up on her knees, she lets out a soft gasp.

The circular space is only about the size of a large walk-in closet, and hardly five feet high; even she’s too tall to stand fully. The entire white dome overhead is covered with strings and strings of slowly twinkling multicolored fairy lights. Dozens of large, white candles wrapped in dark green garland sway and flicker with warm light around the perimeter of the snowy floor. Sliding off one of her mittens, she reaches out to touch a piece of the garland, and an organic, turgid needle pricks her finger. It’s real.

Rose hears the Doctor’s hands and knees plodding through the snow behind her before she feels him wrap his arms around her waist, and rest his chin on her shoulder.

She squeezes her hands around his arms, but is speechless. Tears well up in her eyes as she takes everything in.

In the center of the space is a thick, square stack of brown and white furs inviting her to crawl underneath. To the left of the makeshift bed is a tiny little fir tree adorned with blue baubles and the same multicolor lights. To its right sits a pair of traditional red stockings, one with each of their names messily scrawled onto the white fleece with black paint.

“Do you like it?” he murmurs just next to her ear, his nose tickling her cheek.

Rather than answer him with words, she wriggles out of his grasp and turns around. Pulling him in by his scarf, she kisses him soundly on the mouth. Arms wound around his neck, she lingers there a long moment, whimpering against his lips, at a loss for words.

The Doctor is the one to pull away first.

“Is that a yes?” he breathes, his forehead leaning against hers.

“Yes,” she nods. “I love it.” She tries to stop her eyes from welling up again. “How… an’… when did you do all this?”

“I popped over a little early while you were asleep last night.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal.

She grumbles a little, fingers twisting angrily in his hair.

“You know I hate it when you sneak out at night.”

“You were soundly asleep,” he assures her. “And I was back in bed before you woke up, wasn’t I?” he points out, arrogant as ever.

“S’pose so,” she concedes.

He kisses her again, soft and slow, trying to assuage her irritation.

Begrudgingly, it works marvelously.

\---

With his expertly timed kiss, Rose soon forgets all about his midnight desertion and kisses him back. Her mouth is even more delightfully warm than usual, surrounded as they are by unusually chilly air. Only a few short minutes pass before there’s a familiar warm swelling between his legs, a pleasant tension coiling in his stomach.

“Want to go to bed?” she rushes out between kisses.

“Mmhmm,” he agrees, nodding fervently against her mouth.

Without breaking their kiss longer than a moment, they shuffle their way over to the bed, crumpling onto the pile of furs laid out for them. The Doctor hovers above her as they scoot back until Rose rests her head on one of the pillows. Pausing briefly, he pulls a couple free fur blankets over them both before he pins her beneath him properly. Rose slowly pulls off his earmuffs and scarf, and he helps her get his arms out of the sleeves of his coat and shrug it off. She fumbles with the buttons of his jacket with halfhearted effort, suddenly distracted by his wandering lips, now on her throat.

He pauses for a moment so she can get the jacket off, too, and drags the zip of her coat down so she can wriggle out of it.

In only his long-sleeved Oxford now, the air wafting under their fur blankets suddenly feels much colder.

When he gets Rose out of her coat and chucks it behind them, she shivers just a little, too. But he quickly decides it’s safer to assume it’s a shiver of anticipation than to ruin the mood by asking if she’s cold. He thinks she would tell him if she was. Still, he forgoes removing her jumpers, hoping it’ll keep her from taking off his shirt.

He lowers himself on top of her and pulls the blanket up a little higher, mitigating the chilled air slightly. He kisses her again, savoring the warmth of her lips more than ever, while her hands wander beneath his waist in search of the zip of his trousers.

She gets them undone quickly, and he shoves them and his pants down to his knees easily enough, but it takes some difficulty to get Rose’s many layers of trousers off her hips. He has to roll off her and fight with the multiple fabrics just to get them bundled around her calves, disturbing their blankets in the process. With the new gaps in the covers, a current of cold air wafts over his exposed member, and he does his best to hide a shiver. Eager to have the blankets securely on top of them once more, he rolls back on top of her to align their waists, pulling the furs with him. But with the restraint of her clothes, she can’t open her legs wide enough to accommodate him.

His length slips hotly between her folds, and it at least brings them both some pleasure and relief from the cold: they cry out softly together. He carries on in this way a few moments, rocking back and forth, watching as she bites down on her lip with pleasure. But he can’t angle properly to slide inside her completely, so he has to stop again. He lifts up on his knees and works her trousers completely off one of her ankles, so they’re dangling from one shoe and she’s free to move. She quickly opens her thighs for him and he gently lowers himself on top of her again, lining himself up properly. Sealing his mouth over hers, he pushes slowly inside of her. She moans softly into his kiss, and he savors the sound as her slick warmth envelopes him. For just a moment he holds still, sliding his tongue between her lips, waiting for her to beg him for more.

It’s only a matter of seconds before she’s fidgeting her hips beneath him, mewing against his lips.

He shifts his weight up onto his arms slightly, fisting his hands in the blanket for a little bit of leverage. Even the blanket beneath them is a bit cold, acting as a poor buffer against the frozen layer of snow beneath it. Hoping to cancel it out with some friction and exercise, he starts to move. As soon as he does, he calls out her name with a curse in his native tongue, because he can never get used to this feeling; those first few delicious thrusts inside her slippery heat. He sets up the slow, steady rhythm he knows will keep them both comfortable at the beginning, trying to hit the angle he knows Rose likes.

But with his bum exposed beneath the single blanket and Rose’s wet shoes on the back of his thighs, it’s hard to focus on the pleasure and the pacing. He can regulate his temperature fairly well, but it’s hardly the ideal conditions for lovemaking he anticipated going into this. He tries not to falter in his pace, but before long he speeds up, counting on friction to help warm his skin, and the blanket starts to slide off his back, exposing more of both their bodies to the chill.

With Rose’s help, he attempts to fix it, but it continues to fall off, and the cold starts to bite at his skin. Especially his fingers. Determined to let Rose finish, he keeps up the motion despite the discomfort, switching to autopilot. Rose hasn’t complained at all, and he doesn’t want to quit and leave her unsatisfied. Trying to focus on pleasing her, he drops lower again, changing angle, and reaches one hand beneath her top layers, seeking out her breast. Slipping under her bra, he rubs his thumb over her nipple, hard and pebbled on first contact.

She arches up into him, though, his name on her lips with a gorgeous exhale. She reaches up her arms to wind around his shoulders, and the blanket is knocked off altogether, falling to their knocking waists.

He curses as the unhindered cold air hits the back of his neck and seeps through his relatively flimsy shirt.

“All righ’?” she asks

“Oh, yeah,” he lies. “I’m good. You?”

“Mmm,” she nods, biting back another moan as he strokes her nipple again.

He needs to speed this along. Pausing briefly to bring his lips to hers once more, he tries to relax, and opens his mind to pick up on her mental wavelengths. It’s easier by the day to tune into her frequency, strong as their bond is becoming. And with the extensive skin-on-skin contact they have during times like these, it’s particularly easy to spark a stronger connection. The soft pink tendrils of her mind intertwine with his, warm and welcoming as always, a lovely contrast to the temperature of the real world. The first thing to hit him is the pleasure, always so distinct from his, the stretching friction inside her, his weight above her, the warmth radiating from between her legs, seeping throughout her body. The way her climax builds through her entire body never ceases to amaze him.

There’s so much love, too, flowing through their link, sweet and thick like honey. He could drown in it and die happily. There’s awe there, too, that he arranged all this, that he had these romantic instincts buried inside him all along. Even stronger than that, there’s an all-consuming gratitude that they’re together again, reunited across dimensions. There’s a touch of sorrow, hidden beneath these shallower layers, that she isn’t with her family, and never will be on Christmas again. And, wait… that’s one he’s not familiar with. Something blue and hard, it paralyzes, it’s anxious… is that… Is she cold, after all?

Oh, yes. That’s definitely a bit of discomfort. That’s gooseflesh and chattering teeth.

“Rose?” he inquires gently, slowing down.

“Mm, yeah, Doctor,” she groans back at him, misinterpreting his question for quiet passion, not wanting to dull his enthusiasm by not returning it. It’s very like her to be so selfless.

“Are you cold?” he asks more bluntly, huffing out a half chuckle.

She sighs, relieved, and her teeth chatter a little.

“My god, it’s freezin’ in here,” she confesses.

His head falls onto her shoulder as he stops moving altogether, laughing against her chilled skin.

“It’s so cold,” he breathes out.

“I thought you were fine, ‘s why I didn’t say anythin’!” she giggles with him.

“Bloody blanket,” she grumbles after a few moments, trying to pull it over his shoulders again but failing. It’s all bundled the wrong way and trapped between their intertwined limbs.

“Are you close at all?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she confesses, biting her lip and lifting her hips a little.

“Here, let me…” he rolls off of her, fixing the blankets so they’re situated over them again. “Is that a little better?” he asks.

“Not really,” she says, shivering again. “This bed is freezin’ on my arse.”

It really is. He even noticed how cold the furs beneath them are, and he wasn’t lying directly on them. Though they’re a staple for this village, they’re surprisingly bad at insulating against near-freezing temperatures. They need some real weatherproof fabrics for this to work. And inherently, this _can’t_ work with fabrics in the way. Nakedness is sort of a prerequisite.

The cruel, icy irony.

“Here,” he says, reaching back to hand her her coat. “Put your coat and trousers back on.” He leans in close, whispering softly. “There are other ways I can make you come.” He presses his lips to hers tenderly, and she gasps a little against his mouth at his boldness. “Even if it’s with your clothes on,” he adds.

She hums, pondering, and combs her fingers through his hair.

“You’re sweet. But I want you inside me.”

A chill runs down his spine at her words, this time nothing to do with the cold, and he lowers his lips to her neck.

“Hmm,” he breathes against the skin there, still pleasantly warm beneath his lips. “What do you want to do?” he asks, nuzzling her jaw with his nose.

“Want to finish,” she sighs, squirming with his ministrations on her neck.

“Here?”

She shivers again.

“Want to go back to the TARDIS?” he asks, starting to get concerned for her health.

She nods vehemently.

He briefly mourns that they won’t be staying in the festive setting he put all this effort into preparing for them, but the most important thing is that Rose is comfortable. (And that she gets a healthy amount of well-deserved pleasure.)

More quickly than they removed them, they collect their discarded clothes from beneath the blanket and scattered across the snow floor and put them back on. They slide down the entrance, and as soon as he pokes his head out into the night air, he realizes how much warmer it really is inside the igloo. It’s started to snow, too, and the flakes quickly collect on his face and hair, and the wind bites at his ears and fingers. In his rush to get Rose someplace warm, he left his earmuffs and gloves inside. But not wanting to delay their steamy evening any longer, he takes Rose’s hand and they leap out from underground and dash through the snow towards their ship.

“It’s bloody freezing out ‘ere!” Rose shout-whispers as they trudge through the thick snow as fast as they can, trying to dodge the snowflakes as they fall.

“The temperature does tend to drop fairly quickly once the sun sets,” the Doctor explains.

“Might’ve told me that before we started runnin’ away from our shelter,” Rose complains.

“The TARDIS isn’t far. And I’ll make it worth your while.” He looks down at her with a little wink, and clicks his tongue.

“You’d better.”

By the time they burst through the door, the TARDIS has brought up the interior temperature of the ship by several degrees, hearing his plea for warmth from afar.

The warm air wraps around him like a blanket, defrosting his numb ears and fingers, melting snowflakes in his hair until water drips down his face.

He peels off his coat and throws it over a coral as they make their way towards the hall.

At the entryway to the kitchen, an idea strikes him, and he skids to a stop with a wet screech.

“Go on and get warmed up,” he directs Rose, nodding down the hall. “I’ll be right there.”

“An’ what are you gonna do?” she asks, both confused and ready to scold him.

“Hot chocolate!” He grins.

Rose quickly softens to his plan.

“Ooo, yes please!” she sings as she runs down the hall on her toes.

The Doctor shuffles into the kitchen and towards the pantry. He spots the jar of Scythuluan cocoa he picked up years ago and swipes it off the shelf. The last time they’d had it was ages before Canary Wharf. They had just returned from Woman Wept, and Rose had whipped some up for them both. As they were finishing up their mugs on the couch in the library, she’d wiped chocolate foam off his lip with her thumb. He’d found it rather audacious at the time, of course, and had turned his icy blue eyes on her in a scandalized glare. But unbeknownst to Rose, he had cherished that simple gesture for weeks to come: the soft pad of her thumb touching his face for the first time.

He gets some milk from the fridge and some peppermint extract from the spice cabinet and gets some peppermint hot chocolate prepared on the range in no time. When he opens the cabinet for some mugs to use, the pair of snowman mugs Jackie got them for Christmas three years ago catches his eye. They had never used them before the disaster, and he hadn’t dared to use them with any of the other companions on the ship. Anything related to Rose or her family and friends were strictly for looking at, reminiscing; not for touching or using. It would only defile her memory. His hearts clench in his chest at the wretched memories of that era of his life. But then a rush of gratitude floods warmly through his veins that she’s back in his life to stay. She’s waiting for him in their room right now, on their bed, no less.

He steals a couple of candy canes from the pantry, unwraps them and hangs them over the side. One mug in each hand, he races out of the kitchen and down the hall as fast as he can go without sloshing the contents onto the floor.

When he steps through the open doorway, she’s waiting for him in the center of the bed, back resting against the headboard, the blue duvet pulled up to her chin. She gives her a disarming grin when she sees him, wriggling under the covers. Though he’s woken up to it a hundred times by now, he still doesn’t know if he’ll ever be used to seeing Rose in his bed.

He strolls up to the bed and holds out her one of the mugs, which she takes gratefully. Already plenty warm from the few minutes back in the controlled climate of the TARDIS, he sits atop the covers as he takes his first gulp, content to wait to ravish her until she’s warmed up with her beverage.

“Mmm,” she moans as she swallows her first sip, closing her eyes. “Ta.”

“Of course.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, each taking the occasional drink from their mug. The Doctor can’t help but notice, though, that their room lacks any festive decorations at all. Though he’d never want Rose to be needlessly cold all night, he regrets that all of his Christmasy effort went into plan A, and none into this plan B.

 “Wish we could’ve brought them,” Rose laments, as though reading his mind (which, she probably is, actually). He’s still not quite used to Rose having a direct line to his mind, now, either. He spent so long keeping her at arm’s length, suppressing his desire for this kind of intimacy, he may never be completely used to it.

“I didn’t think this through very well,” he laments guiltily.

“No, ‘s not your fault. It really wasn’t that cold, ‘til you started taking my clothes off,” she accuses playfully.

“You started it,” he shrugs, taking another sip of his cocoa.

“Couldn’t help myself,” she teases, taking another sip as well.

“We can go back, if you’d like,” he suggests.

“Yeah?”

“’Course we can. You know, once you’ve had your way with me.”

Rose chokes on her cocoa, spitting some back into her cup, and bursts into a fit of coughing giggles.

In the process, though, the blanket around her shoulders slips down to her waist, revealing that she’s not wearing anything beneath it.

The Doctor pauses with the mug at his lips, staring down at her exposed chest, and very quickly loses interest in the drink in his hands.

Physically rendered speechless, he lightly reprimands her through their link, instead.

_Rose Tyler, you little minx._

\---

Rose’s strategy works perfectly.

As soon as the Doctor sees she’s naked, he’s helpless to do anything but drool. Blokes are all the same. After staring for several seconds, he sets down his mug on the end table. And going one step further, he leans over and takes hers from her hands, outright ignoring her complaints that she isn’t finished.

Her anger quickly evaporates, though, when he pulls back the covers and climbs in next to her. Wrapping his arm around her, he splays his fingers on her back and pulls her flush against him as he covers her mouth with his, hot and desperate and minty sweet. His fingertips trace down her spine and over the curve of her bum, sending hot shivers coursing through her still-defrosting body. With the Doctor under the thick blanket with her, she’ll be toasty warm in no time.

She helps him peel off all his layers, no hesitation or fear of cold this time, and he grows more impatient with each item of clothing that comes off: a button on his jacket pops off and he nearly asphyxiates on his tie trying to get it off without untying it. But with that disaster averted, and him finally bare and at her mercy, she doesn’t bother with any more foreplay. They had enough back at their igloo; it’s time to finish what they started.

She rolls onto her back, luring him to climb on top of her. When he immediately takes the bait, she takes him in her hand, pumping a few times just to watch him squirm impatiently above her. But without more teasing, she lines the tip of his length up with her entrance and he pushes into her in one swift movement, sharing in her cry of relief. His first few thrusts are slow, and he gives her all the attention he possibly can: captures her lips in a messy kiss, nibbles the shell of her ear, bites down on the side of her neck. But when she starts to call out his name, it’s his undoing. It always is. They aren’t starting from zero, really: the heightened tension and pleasure they’d built up before catches up with them quickly, and he picks up his pace as they both chase after the peak together.

She just begins to feel him, reaching out to her with the tendrils of his mind, hot and ancient and tender, begging her to come with him. Their senses begin to fuse together as both their pleasure intensifies and spreads through their limbs, and she can feel the slick heat tight around his length, can feel her curves beneath him, her hips softening the impact of his thrusts. Can hear how her own garbled curses and cries of his name sound to him, feel the way the whispered words tickle the skin of his shoulder.

With a low, restrained moan, the Doctor breathes out her name one last time, and the levee breaks. Shared pleasure floods through them both; she clenches and flutters around him and he pulses into her. His fists clenched in the sheets, her nails on his back, every delicious throb of one orgasm fuels the other, extending their pleasure for so long it’s blinding. Deafening. Everything in the universe disappears except for this, she and the Doctor intertwined so completely that they’re one mind and body, sharing in a bliss that silences all their other sensations.

They float in paradise together for long after their orgasm fades, sharing thoughts of praise and gratitude with soft, lazy kisses. When he eventually slips out of her, he distracts her with more tender kisses while he cleans them up with his shirt.

She sighs contentedly against the side of his neck when they break for air. “Lovely.”

“Mmm,” he agrees with a nod, still panting slightly.

Thanks to the heat they generated, it’s about a million degrees under this blanket now. She folds the blanket down to their waists, and slumps down to cuddle closer to him, resting her head on his chest. In sharp contrast to half an hour ago, her entire body feels almost _too_ warm, red and swollen with heat and hormones, down to her toes. But snuggled up naked next to the Doctor, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Me either,” he responds to her thoughts.

“Still not quite used to that,” she mumbles. They only forged this link a few weeks ago, after they’d spent several months learning what they’d missed in each other’s lives, and getting thoroughly intimately acquainted for the first time.

“It’ll take some time.”

“’S nice, though,” she adds, never wanting to imply that she’s unhappy with any aspect of it. One of the most important things she’s learned about it is that it’s more active during emotionally fraught moments. It’s particularly charged when they’re touching; and it’s at its zenith when they’re making love. And Rose can’t deny that it’s crucial that they’re honest with one another at a time like that.

And blimey, nothing beats a shared orgasm. The first time they incorporated telepathy into their amorous activities, she passed out cold before the Doctor could even speak to her. It’s exhausting as it is incredible.

“Glad you feel that way.” Their link swells with joy and a little bit of pride.

“Can I have the rest of my hot chocolate?” Rose asks suddenly, lifting up onto her elbow.

Wordlessly, the Doctor leans over to grab her mug off the nightstand.

They must’ve been fast, because it feels just as hot on her tongue as it did before they started snogging. She snickers at the thought.

The Doctor picks up his as well, and they each take a few slow sips in comfortable silence, him lounging against the headboard, her against his bare chest.

“Is this the Scythuluan cocoa?” she asks, smacking her lips lightly.

He hums in acknowledgement, mouth full of chocolate.

“You remembered,” he adds after a moment.

“I remember we only had it that one night. I kept askin’ you if we could go and get more, but it took you ages to actually take us.”

“There were just so many other places I wanted to take you. And Scythulu is really a boring planet, excepting the exceptional chocolate.”

“And then,” Rose continues, unfazed by his contrived tongue twister. She lifts off his chest and sits up so she can look at him. “When we actually did get more, it was the middle of summer, I didn’t feel like drinking any. And by the time I remembered it existed, I was in another dimension.”

 “I was saving it for a special occasion.” He smiles, and with his hair mussed up from sex the way it is now, it’s more endearing than usual.

“Special occasion, hm?”

“Quite. It’s our first Christmas as a married couple.” He looks offended that he had to elaborate at all.

“Y’know, according to pretty much anyone on Earth, we’re not married yet,” she quips.

“Y’know,” he mocks her accent, “According to pretty much anyone on Gallifrey we are.”

He _had_ said that this telepathic bond thing they have was their most serious form of romantic commitment, the equivalent to marriage where he’s from. But _she’s_ not from Gallifrey, and she wouldn’t mind if they adhered to some Earth traditions, too. Evidently, though, he hasn’t picked up on her cues yet.

“You still haven’t even given me a ring.”

“That can be easily arranged.”

“Go on then, tightwad. Let’s see it.” She raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Well,” he drawls. “I don’t have it on me. But I know exactly where to go. Let’s say we make it our next trip?”

“Deal.” She emphasizes in her mind that she’s only teasing him (but that she would love to have a ring, and maybe a ceremony.)

He smirks over at her, cogs turning in his mind, and she thinks he’s finally got the hint.

She downs the last few sips of her drink, lumpy with bits of settled cocoa powder at the bottom of the mug.

“Ready to head back?” she asks.

She can feel the chocolate around her mouth, and as she predicted, the Doctor leans in to kiss her, pulling her top lip into his mouth and lapping up the chocolate with his tongue.  

“Whenever you want,” he replies.

“I think we should bring some extra blankets. And I’m wearin’ all my clothes the whole time. So that means no seducin’ me.” She thrusts her index finger at him.

The Doctor drops his jaw in mock surprise.

“Oh,” he almost growls. “No seducing you? Well.” He sets their now empty mugs back on the table. “In that case, I’ll take one more for the road.”

Rose squeaks playfully as he rolls them over until he’s on top of her again, claiming her lips in a warm chocolate kiss.

\---

Another half an hour later, they lay in their decorated igloo, staring up at the lights and the incandescent snow above them. Still fully clothed except for their shoes, and drowning under their fur blankets and the duvet they brought from their bed, neither of them is cold despite the frosty air.

Rose fidgets beside him, and he glances over to see she’s turned onto her side to face him. He rolls onto his side, too, meeting her eyes with a small smile.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome.”

“Can we stay ‘til Christmas?” she asks.

“That’s three more days, sleeping in the snow,” he cautions softly.

“’M not cold anymore.” She shakes her head, and wriggles closer to him until their faces are mere inches apart. “Toasty warm.”

“Since you’ve still got your hood and mittens on,” he teases.

“Yep.”

He chuckles lightly.

“We can stay as long as you want,” he promises.

“’Kay,” she grins happily as she closes her eyes. A few moments of silence pass, and he thinks maybe she’s falling asleep, but then she mumbles something more. “We can still pop back to the TARDIS to shag, though, yeah?”

The Doctor can’t help bursting into quiet laughter at that.

Rose peeks her eyes open, apparently affronted by his response to her question.

“ _Anytime_ , Rose,” he reassures her with a soft touch of his lips to hers. “Anytime.”


End file.
